


Not Quite Spin The Bottle

by daffodil_daisy



Series: Season Of Kink 2019 [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Closeted Character, Comeplay, F/F, High School, Semi-Public Sex, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 13:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19318846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodil_daisy/pseuds/daffodil_daisy
Summary: Who needs to be out to the world, when being in provides nights like these?





	Not Quite Spin The Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> First posted fic. Hope you all like it?

Bebe’s the only person Wendy knows who wears a nightgown at a sleepover. There are eleven girls in this basement for one of Heidi’s monthly sleepovers and every single one of them is in shorts or flannel pants. Except Bebe. She’s clad in a pink nightie, looking somehow innocent and ridiculously sexy at the same time. Or maybe that’s just Wendy’s libido talking, and no one else finds pastel pink with white polka dots arousing.

Wendy keeps it contained, most of the evening. It’s part of the ritual of a Heidi Turner sleepover. Wine coolers, dumb games, talking over movies, and hours of concealing reactions of Bebe’s teasing. And at the end of the night, a screeching orgasm.

One of the times she fails is during truth or dare. It’s nothing as cliche as Red daring them to kiss. In the mind of straight girls, sleepovers are nothing like what men want them to be. Instead, it’s Nichole thinking she’s being devious, being a hilarious pain in the ass daring Wendy to tie both her wrists to someone else’s for half an hour. Nichole starts the nose game, pretty manicured index finger on the tip of her nose setting off a cascade of girls doing the same. Bebe only has to be slow for a second to be the last girl with her nose covered. Wendy catches Bebe’s painted but trimmed to the quick nail status and has the urge to lick her lips.

Nichole ties their wrists together with knee socks of Heidi’s, arms crossed and pulse points jammed together. Lola makes a joke about hoping they don’t have to pee any time soon. Wendy would put money on Bebe spending the next five minutes trying to figure out how to hold a cooler bottle well enough to continue to get drunk. After all, why not? It’s hours until they can do anything anyway. Except that’s not what Bebe does. Instead she flexes her fingers so they lightly stroke the delicate skin of Wendy’s inner arm. 

It’s difficult to not melt into slag over the next half hour. Wendy should have seen it coming. Bebe always manages to get her riled up before it’s time. With each caress Wendy can feel her pussy get wetter, until she’s like a ride at Pi Pi’s Splashtown. There’s a very good chance it’s showing through her sleep boxers, a green knit pair that go well with her yellow and green girl’s cut t-shirt. Her saving grace is twofold. One, that no one really expects her and Bebe to be moving around right now, which gives Wendy the permission to stay seated with her wet cunt facing the floor. And two, that Truth Or Dare is still going on, and two girls tied to each other is the least interesting of what’s going on in the room.

Around the time that Heidi dares Jenny to eat a whole loaf of bread, Bebe pretends to adjust how she’s sitting. Conveniently, on her way to sitting on her knees, she presses her pointed toes to Wendy’s cunt. Wendy can’t help but exclaim. Most of the girls are too busy encouraging Jenny to soak the bread with splashes of rum to make it easier to eat to notice Wendy’s outburst, but Isla turns to her and Wendy’s forced to stammer out that Bebe just kicked her. 

Wendy sighs when Nichole’s phone buzzes with the alarm that their time is up. The knee socks are unknotted and Bebe immediately gets up and heads for the cooler she was drinking before. Wendy grabs the nearest pillow, not even sure which of the girls it belongs to, and puts it on her lap. When she drapes her arms over it, it even looks mostly natural. Or at least it should appear that way to her friends, considering that Wendy has to conceal her wet pussy with a pillow every sleepover, thanks to Bebe. They must think she’s just a throw pillow kind of girl.

The only other time Wendy loses her shit is when she’s playing cards. Half the party is watching some raunchy Bridesmaids style movie on low volume so they can add their commentaries over it. The other half, less interested in the tv, have a sweet game of two deck Bullshit to occupy themselves with. Wendy hasn’t liked Terrence and Phillip-esque dumb comedy for years now, so she has a pile of cards in hand. She’s lied three times about the cards she’s put on the Japanese chabudai table, and hasn’t been called bullshit on once.

Not that her skill matters, once Bebe gets involved. She breaks away from the movie cluster to come over and demand to know ‘who’s fuckin’ lying’. Bebe spends a minute with her chin tucked over Red’s shoulder, looking intently at her array of cards. Wendy knows it’s a show, but that doesn’t mean she knows what is going to happen when Bebe crawls to the next side of the table and tucks in behind her. The answer is wild. Bebe ruts her tits against Wendy’s back, nipples at obvious points. And her fingers, they dip into the elastic of Wendy’s shorts. Bebe plays with the crease of her ass for nearly a minute, and nobody notices. Wendy lets it go on as long as she can, but eventually it’s too much. She lays the portion of the deck that’s still in her hand on the table. It’s a new set, and the sudden movement is enough to make the entire pile slide onto the floor. She’ll pick them up later, once she’s back from her bolt to the bathroom. Knowing the girls are gossiping about her potential vomiting is worth it, for getting a moment of space.

Light is peering through the egress window when the last of the other girls fall asleep. Wendy’s been in her sleeping bag for twenty minutes, an important ruse. Some of the girls might get to talking, if Wendy and Bebe consistently stay up together after everyone else falls asleep. South Park High girls love their gossip. She’s been careful to keep her eyes closed and only listen for the noises of goddamn Esther goddamn finally going to bed. Wendy still has her eyes closed when Bebe pounces onto her. They spring open, and Wendy gets a brief moment of looking at her girlfriend’s face before Bebe is making out with her and they’re too close for her eyes to focus.

Once Bebe unzips the sleeping bag and shoves the layer separating them away, Wendy immediately gets to work. She slides her hands up Bebe’s thighs, pushing the pretty little nightgown up as she does. Bebe’s not wearing panties. She had to have been, all evening, even Bebe’s not that daring when there’s a chance Twister will be played. The pair is probably in her fuschia sleeping bag, kicked off as Bebe pretended to be a restless sleeper waiting for Esther to drop off. Wendy is less curious than she is happy for the loss. It means she has immediate access to Bebe’s beautiful pink cunt. Like Bebe, her own fingernails are properly taken care of, so Wendy feels no hesitation sinking one finger straight into her. Bebe’s slick enough for it, and for the second Wendy joins the first with a moment later. 

Bebe is remarkably good at multitasking. She can both work her body towards a silent orgasm, and help Wendy out of her boxers and panties. Bebe doesn’t bother with the t-shirt, just bites down on the bit of collarbone already revealed. Wendy squirms, knows she’ll have to wear her purple hoodie for the next few days until the hickey fades. She writhes, and keeps pace on her pistoning fingers, and within minutes Bebe’s pressing an open mouthed gasp against Wendy’s skin. Bebe’s always been quick to come. Convenient, sometimes. 

Bebe reaches beneath herself to start playing with Wendy. It’s intoxicating, getting the touch Wendy’s been craving all evening. She wants to come with Bebe, just like her girlfriend came with her. The difference between them though, is that Wendy can’t afford to soak her sleeping bag with her juices. A few hours from now her mom is going to be picking her up from Heidi’s, and she’ll insist on helping Wendy stuff her overnight gear into the car’s small trunk. If it’s wet, it’ll cause the most horrendously awkward conversation Wendy’s ever had.

Clearly the only solution is for Wendy and Bebe to tiptoe into the laundry room and continue things there. The risk taker in Wendy doesn’t bother to pick up her boxers before moving. There’s something alluring about forcing her future self into a half naked walk of shame.

Wendy follows closely behind Bebe. She closes the door, and looks around. Wendy’s really grown to love this cold, unfinished room, bare concrete and exposed wiring and all. It’s changed a little over the years, but so has Wendy’s and Bebe’s list of things to try with each other. What hasn’t changed, what has become ritual, is the roaring orgasms she knows they’re going to have. Some couples have date nights, or annual resort vacations. They have Heidi Turner’s sleepovers.

Feet already growing cold from the concrete, Wendy withstands the onslaught that is Bebe kissing her and tugging off her shirt and pinching her nipples. If her boxers were still on, they’d be wet yet again. But they’re not, and it gives Bebe easy access to get a thumb on her clit and three fingers in her cunt. Between that and the hand on Wendy’s throat, Bebe maneuvers her onto the washing machine like a puppet. Wendy has good memories of Heidi’s washer and dryer. Both these ones, and the rickety thousand year old set the Turners had previously. Wendy will never forget the night Bebe had her stand on one leg, her right propped up on the top of the washer so the vibrations of the overloaded machine could ride right against her cunt.

Tonight Bebe has her laid out, legs spread and pussy level with Bebe’s head. Wendy does her best to not scream and wake up ten of her best friends as Bebe eats her out, forcing her thighs apart with insistent hands. The metal starts off cold against her naked body, but it warms up with her radiating heat, slicks up with her sweat as she bucks against Bebe’s grip. 

Just when Wendy’s not sure if she can keep her sweaty body balanced on the slick surface of the washer any longer, Bebe pulls Wendy up and onto her feet. Balance quickly becomes a new type of problem. It’s hard to keep standing with a tongue teasing your labia.

Wendy might not be as quick to come as Bebe, but what she lacks in hair trigger she makes up for in intensity. Including the ability to squirt when getting off. Bebe knows what she’s doing, and when Bebe moves her drenched mouth away from Wendy’s cunt, she replaces it with her hand and Wendy knows she’s doomed. Bebe has this technique of a fast wave with arched fingers that gets Wendy every time. Bebe’s nearly as fast as an actual vibrator, and with better pressure. Wendy’s eyes roll back in her head and she sways as Bebe fucks what seems like a quart of come out of her quivering cunt.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Bebe says, voice as aroused as it is in love. And then Bebe is pulling on both her hands at once, and Wendy doesn’t have the strength to deny her. Wendy drops down to her knees on the concrete, and then with Bebe switching her grip to Wendy’s shoulders, sits in her own pool of slick. Bebe’s making sure her fluids are all over her cunt, her inner thigh, her ass. It’s filthy, it’s humiliating, it’s enough to make Wendy play with her clit as she bows forward and gets her mouth on her girlfriend’s pussy. 

Wendy eats Bebe out in that position, a modified Puppy Pose with her delving hand being the only thing hiding her pussy from the world. Not exactly safe for a normal yoga class. Her nipples drag on the concrete. Her scalp tugs as Bebe pulls on her hair. Her mouth fills with the taste of Bebe, first lightly then deeply as her girlfriend comes for the second time. Wendy flutters her own fingers and shudders as a second spray of come leaves her body.

For the third time, Bebe manipulates Wendy’s body, this time standing her back up again. Wendy’s too wrung out to resist. Bebe runs her knuckles against the juices coating Wendy’s thighs. Back and forth, back and forth, like she’s soothing a kitten.

“Oh. Oh wow, Wens. You really enjoyed yourself, didn’tcha, babe?”

It’s not like Wendy can deny it.

After a minute of rubbing Wendy’s come into her own skin, Bebe backs off. She crosses to the doorway, around where they discarded their clothes. Quick as a wink, Bebe pulls her innocently patterned nightgown back on. She also picks up Wendy’s green and yellow shirt.

“I’ll put your top on your bed, okay?” Bebe says saccharine sweet, before exiting the laundry room and leaving Wendy to stand alone, naked, reeking of ejaculate. Wendy does her best to finger comb her hair back into respectability as she waits a decent amount of time for Bebe to settle into her sleeping bag and make sure the noise didn’t stir any of the girls. 

Finally though, Wendy deems it safe to leave. It makes Wendy’s pussy clench to navigate through a dozen of her sleeping friends without any clothes on. Half of the girls are sleeping on their backs, snoring lightly. If any happened to wake up and open an eye, they’d see right up her cunt. Her cervix could fucking _wink_ at them, for fucksake. Bebe fucking knows it too. Wendy is positive if she looks over to where Bebe’s crawled into her own sleeping bag, Bebe will be smirking. Fucking little minx. And a clit tease too. Bebe knows very well that Wendy will have trouble getting to sleep, and that tomorrow as soon as she’s safe in her own bedroom Wendy will be getting off at the idea of public sex. It’s the kind of thing that keeps their hidden relationship alive, the certainty of particular moments.


End file.
